


Square T5: Google Me

by dracusfyre



Series: Tony Stark Bingo Challenge [13]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Pre-Infinity War, Tony and Shuri Meet, it's practically canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-17 22:19:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15471342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracusfyre/pseuds/dracusfyre
Summary: This was my excuse to write the scene that I've been imagining since I saw Tony's Infinity War armor which is OBVIOUSLY a result of a Tony and Shuri collaboration.





	Square T5: Google Me

“Friday, am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”  Tony replayed the video for the fifth time, slowing it down as much as possible.  The quality was crap, the angle was awkward, but there was definitely a moment in the video where the camera had recorded Klau blowing a hole in T’Challa’s suit and then the suit _repaired itself._   Silver and black crawled across T’Challa’s shoulder, covering up the damage until his suit looked as good as new.

“Do you think you’re seeing nanotechnology in action, Boss? Because if so, that’s what I’m seeing too.”

“Yeah.” Tony bit his thumb as he watched the footage again.  “Can you find me any more clips of this?”

“I’ll try, Boss.”  He tried to be patient while Friday worked, but the possibility of nanotech armor made him have to get up and walk around, too excited to sit still. “I wonder how he made them reprogrammable?  Clearly they are generic particles that somehow know how to specialize into the different parts of his armor.”

“I don’t know, Boss.” 

Tony had also had problems making nanites that were strong enough to be used as armor.  He could make them nimble, specialized, and smart, but not strong. “Maybe it’s the vibranium,” he mused.

“Almost certainly, Boss.  Vibranium likely has properties and uses that we can only dream about.  Would you like to see those videos now?”

“Sure.”  Tony sat back down at his desk, but none of the other videos that Friday had dug up from the internet had any better angle than the first. “Dammit, I have to know how they did that!  Can you find me an email address for King T’Challa?”

“Looks like all they have is a generic one for the office, Boss,” she said after a moment.  “Do you want to use that?”

“For starters, I guess.” He drummed his fingers on the desk as he thought.  Who did he know who might have a more direct line?  What was that CIA officer’s name? Ross something? Or was it something Ross?  He typed out a quick email requesting scientific collaboration, but even as he wrote it he knew that it would take a while to get a response, which may or may not be what he wanted to hear, and which may or may not lead him to the actual person who developed the technology.  “Nope, not good enough,” he said aloud.

“Excuse me, Boss?”

“Make me a flight plan to Wakanda, Friday,” he said.  “I’m going to ask the big guy in person.”

***

“We are approaching the border, Boss,” Friday chimed in his ear, and on his HUD she showed the border as a bright yellow line on the terrain.  As he approached, he saw that his proximity had not gone unnoticed by the locals; as he slowed and came in for a landing, his display showed a small squad of warriors approaching, wearing blue patterned blankets and carrying spears.

Tony made sure to stop well clear of the border and when he stepped out of the suit, he held his hands up and far away from his sides to show that he was unarmed. “If this goes sideways, avenge me,” he muttered to Friday as he started to walk towards the guards, who were still watching him with hostility.

“I don’t think I’d make a good Avenger, Boss,” she answered.  “Should I call someone?”

“Not yet.”  When he got close enough he said, “I am Tony Stark” in what he hoped was passable Xhosa, having been coached by Friday on the flight over.  “I would like to speak to King T’Challa.  We met in Vienna,” he added.

One of the guards studied him before responding in the liquid syllables of Xhosa. “We were not notified that you would be coming,” Friday translated in his ear.  “How do we know you are who you say you are?”

Tony turned and gestured to the Iron Man suit standing in the distance.  “Google me, if you don’t believe it,” he answered in English. “I just want to talk, one scientist to another.”  He repeated his last sentence in Xhosa.  And for good measure, he added the only other thing he’d memorized: “Thank you.”

After another moment, the leader turned away.  “Watch him,” he said to the other guards, who nodded and adjusted their grips on their spears.  Spears which, now that Tony was close enough to examine them, looked a bit more advanced than the traditional wood and metal version.

After a few minutes, the leader returned. “The king has granted your request for an audience,” he said in clear, lyrically accented English. “Follow us.  But you leave the suit.”

“Sure.  You know what to do, Friday.”

“Yeah, Boss.  Don’t Touch My Stuff protocol activated.”

One guard was left behind, presumably to keep an eye on Tony’s suit, while the others escorted Tony into the city.  They walked a few hundred yards and then a small quinjet-looking aircraft seemed to shimmer to existence out of the grassy plain.

“This will take you to the king,” the lead guard said, gesturing for Tony to enter.

“Thank you,” Tony said again, and climbed on board.

Tony had _thought_ that he had mentally prepared himself for anything, but as they approached the capital, Birnin Zana, and Tony saw the hologram of the sleepy African city shimmer to reveal the technological and architectural marvel of the real city, he was stunned. The city was ringed by mountains that were thickly covered with vegetation, and the city seemed to rise organically out of the central valley.  The jet bobbed and weaved through skyscrapers that blended seamlessly into landscape, aiming for a building slightly taller than the rest, that was encircled on three sides by the river that wound through the city.

The jet landed and Tony was handed off to another guard, this one a tall woman, head shaved bald and wearing red and silver armor.  “Follow me, Mr. Stark,” she said.  “I will take you to King T’Challa.”

“Thank you,” Tony said, glad that he had practiced that phrase with Friday until he knew he had it down pat.  He was led into the building and down a set of hallways until the warm wood and stone gave way to clean black and white lines and a spiral ramp that led downward into what was clearly a laboratory.

The severe dignity of the guard leading him downward was the only thing that kept Tony from racing down the ramp to try to look at everything all at once.        He was so busy trying to figure out what everyone was working on that he almost ran into the guard when she stopped.

“Mr. Stark to see you, my King,” the guard said with a bow, and turned to leave. King T’Challa was with a young woman, a teenager, who judging from the family resemblance was like his sister, Shuri.  Tony had studied everything currently known or speculated about the Wakandan royal family and Shuri had been the source of a great deal of speculation.

“Another one!” The teenager exclaimed with a bright smile, turning to study him.  “Just how many white boys are you planning to collect, brother?”

“Peace, Shuri,” T’Challa chided.  “Mr. Stark, it is a pleasure to see you again. This is my sister, Shuri.”

“A pleasure to you as well, King T’Challa, and to meet you, Princess Shuri,” Tony said, giving them both the slight bow he had perfected for the Prime Minister of Japan. T’Challa responded with a small smile and the tip of his head.

“What brings you to Wakanda today, Mr. Stark?”

Tony brought out his phone and pulled up the video, double tapping the screen so that the video was projected as a hologram for everyone to see. “If that’s not nanotechnology than I need to go back to grade school,” he said when the video was over.  T’Challa had looked increasingly resigned as the video played, while Shuri kept sneaking glances at him, eyes dancing.  “So my question is, who do I have to beg to be allowed to look at this technology in person?”

“I warned you, brother,” she said, and T’Challa waved away her words.

“You are correct, Mr. Stark.  That is indeed nanotechnology, developed by our Department of Technology.”

“By which he means me,” Shuri cut in. She lifted her chin and crossed her arms across her chest. “I’m the Department of Technology.”

“Awesome.” Tony got down on one knee facing her and put his hands together.  “Please will you let me see it and tell me how it works? _Please_?”

 

Tony only had a few hours to pick Shuri’s brain about the nanites before Tony was quickly and mysteriously hustled out of the palace, but his notes had more than enough information to keep him busy for the next week, except for the times that he was dragged away by an exasperated Pepper to sleep and eat.  Two weeks into the project Tony had a couple thousand working nanites that assembled into a mostly functioning gauntlet.

“Friday, I think this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever created,” Tony said dreamily, watching the nanites crawl up and down his arm and assemble themselves into armor.

“It is looking good, Boss,” she agreed.  “Incoming call from Princess Shuri.”

“Put it through.  Hello, Princess,” he said as soon as Shuri’s face showed up on his computer monitor.  He held up his hand and showed her the nanites as they moved over his skin in a shiny metal wave.  “I haven’t made a whole suit yet, but I’m getting there.”

“And I’m calling you to help you get there a whole lot faster,” she said with a smile.

Tony straightened and grabbed the computer monitor, eyes widening. “No.”

“Yes,” she said. “My brother has agreed to allow you to have some vibranium to reinforce the titanium alloy. But it could only be for your personal use,” she warned. “And I would recommend something you can keep with you to house the nanoparticles when they're not in use.”

Tony smiled slowly. “I know just the thing.”  
  



End file.
